


i can be the jumpstart for the car parked in your mind

by lattice_heart



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Based on a True Story, Gen, Swearing, canon-typical implication of drug use, friendship™, general nonsense, grumpy store clerks, it's pre-relationship zimbits but if you like flirty zimbits you'll like this, jovial tomfoolery, references to feeling anxious and slightly panicked but not a full panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lattice_heart/pseuds/lattice_heart
Summary: When an act of war spurs the Haus into undertaking an epic quest, who knows who they will meet in the darkness?Written for @biggobingobango 2018!





	i can be the jumpstart for the car parked in your mind

“So...tell me again why we’re doing this?”

Jack wasn’t grumbling. Really, he wasn’t. He just didn’t understand why Shitty had burst into his room shouting about mortal peril and avenging...something. He was pretty sure that Shitty was already mid-speech by the time he actually managed to unjam Jack’s door. He had first noticed it sticking when he had returned to campus in the sweltering August humidity, but the cooling down of autumn had not deterred its stubbornness. Maybe being part of the Haus had changed it. Jack knew the feeling.

Somehow Shitty’s rants had morphed into an all-Haus walking adventure to a late night corner store for what Shitty kept referring to excitedly as “the supplies”. Holster and Ransom’s excited interjections of things to add to the shopping list weren’t providing much context, either.

“BRO, I am telling you, we could do some fucking MASTERFUL work with the Haus Christmas lights.”

“Didn’t the extension cord get chewed through last year?”

“...I can’t believe I forgot about Pikachu.”

“Holtzy, just because a rat chews through an electrical cord, it doesn’t turn him into a Pokemon. This isn’t some Spiderman scenario.”

Lardo snorted. “I’d be less worried about Pikachu and more concerned with the ants who ate the crumbs of your cooking last year, bro. They probably hold a grudge after the Hot Pocket Toaster Oven Incident of 2014, Holster. I would.”

Holster sputtered indignantly while Shitty high-fived Lardo with a look of reverence in his eyes. “Burn him like he burned those goddamn Hot Pockets, you fuckin’ beaut!”

Beside him, Bitty snorted quietly as the other four erupted into chaos.

“Do you have any clue what we’re doing?” Jack asked him, glancing over to Bitty, whose hair had taken on a burnished gold color in the streetlight’s glow.

Bitty rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “You know how Ransom and Holster left their shoes on the porch because they were absolutely filthy after their run-in with the pond yesterday? Well, I guess the LAX bros filled them with shaving cream and Orbeez, and they kinda overflowed and made a big ‘ol mess of the porch and Shitty might have declared war.” He lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Shitty, but I honestly think they were doin’ us a favor by forcing them to wash their damn shoes. They smelled AWFUL.” Bitty crinkled up his nose at the memory.

“Bittle, what the hell is an Orbee? Wait -- are you wearing a jacket AND a sweatshirt?”

The group slowed and Jack’s questions were forgotten momentarily when they came to a cross street, only to find orange sawhorses and cones blocking their way. “Ah shit, I forgot they closed Woodlawn Road while they’re redoing that gas line. Even the sidewalks are all torn up,” said Ransom.

“If we cut down Court Street here and take whatever the next cross street is, we shouldn’t be too much off track,” supplied Holster.

“You know,” said Lardo thoughtfully, “If we head north instead of south after the cross street, the creepy Family Dollar might still be open...and they would have a WAY better selection of supplies.”

“To the creepy Family Dollar!” Shitty cheered, and in high spirits, the group set off on their new path.

“To answer your question Mr. Zimmerman, I do have a jacket on over my hoodie, but that is because it is 56 dang degrees out and I still haven’t acclimated to what y’all think of as a ‘nice autumn night!’” Bitty said with a tease to his voice. “The maple syrup in your veins means you can hold heat better!!”

The back of Jack’s neck prickled warm at his tone, but before he could get anything out other than “haha,” he found himself colliding with a strangely quiet Holster, who had inexplicably stopped them on the sidewalk.

“Uh...what?” Ransom supplied unhelpfully, staring ahead just as Holster was.

Jack grumbled to himself as he sidestepped the pair, trying to figure out what could have made them just stop like that, when he saw it. A beautiful old maple tree, leaves just starting to thin out in the turn of the seasons...and roughly half a dozen people perched on branches, staring curiously back at them.

“Hello! Nice night for an adventure!” Shitty tried, his jovial tone slightly dampened by an undercurrent of confusion.

There was a rustling sound as the people in the tree craned their necks curiously to see who was speaking, but did not reply.

“Are y’all okay up there?” Bitty’s brow was furrowed.

“We are the tree witches, and we demand a toll for safe passage.” It was the half-shadowed lump on the second branch that had spoken, high and reedy, but at their words, the whole tree erupted in cackling laughter. Repetitions of “tree witches!” were barely comprehensible through snorts and giggles. A curl of smoke drifted lazily through the leaves; a sweet, herbal smell that even Jack recognized hung in the damp night air.

Lardo attempted to smother a laugh. “Those guys are fucking high as balls,” she chortled.

“Should we...call somebody? I mean, just so they don’t fall out of the dang tree?” Bitty asked uncertainly. Jack’s heart started to beat faster at the thought. Cops, paramedics, either one would be bad. The sirens-

“Nah,” said Shitty confidently. “As long as it’s just weed, they should be okay. A little food and water wouldn’t hurt ‘em, but they don't seem like this is their first experience with it, if you know what I mean.”

“We could just, you know, walk past them. They’re not real witches.” Holster took a few steps down the sidewalk towards the tree. There was a thunk noise as something solid hit fabric covered flesh, and Holster complained loudly. “Ow! What the fuck did you throw at my shin? A fucking acorn?” Weirdly enough, focusing on Holster’s noisy indignation was helping.

The tree’s inhabitants tittered. “Obey the tree witches!” one called out, earning boisterous cheers from the others. Holster grumbled as he rejoined the group.

Jack took a steadying breath, then spoke. “Euh, tree witches?” He winced as he saw his friends’ heads swivel in his direction.

There was a pause.

“Yes?” Another beat. “Wait, are you guys on the hockey team? You guys ate all the fucking tater tots they had at the dining hall last week.”

Another voice piped up from the leaves. “That fucking sucked, dudes. You should…” The voice paused. Sentence structure seemed a difficult task at the moment. “We could make...You should pay the tree witches a DOUBLE toll for that.” This set off another round of raucous laughter from the tree, followed by a yell of panic...followed, oddly enough, by another round of giggles.

“Fucking Allen almost fell out of the tree!” a voice cackled. “You’re a terrible tree witch!”

“I’m a terrible tree witch!” agreed another voice, which only renewed the giggles.

Jack rubbed his temple. He turned to Shitty. “If we go get them some water and food, would you, euh, watch them? Make sure no one falls out of the tree or, uh...overdoes it.” His eyes flick to Shitty’s, hoping his best friend would understand his quietly growing panic. The idea of ambulances and intoxicated people getting injured while he was there, or- no, he didn’t want that to happen, but he also needed to be Not Here.

“No, yeah, of course, bro. I’ll text you if anything changes." Shitty slapped him on the shoulder, his eyes soft with understanding. The weight of Shitty’s hand was grounding, and it helped slow the rise of nerves Jack felt in the pit of his stomach.

“Tree witches?” he called again, his voice somehow still steady. “We would like to make a deal.”

“Yes, Jack Zimmerman?” Oh, this one was going to be a weird one to explain to his therapist at next Tuesday’s appointment, even by the standards of typical SMH shenanigans.

“We want to bring you, euh, food and drink to...um, pay our toll and pay our dues for the tater tot incident. But we would have to go get them first. Can we leave our friend Shitty as collateral while we go get the supplies?”

The tree witch collective murmured in deliberation.

Jack could feel Bitty shifting his weight nervously beside him. It was important that the hockey team was considered a positive influence on campus, right? He -- no, they -- didn’t work this hard to be the butt of a joke. And it seemed important to Bittle that these so called tree witches were okay, so. Yes.

“Jack Zimmerman, the tree witches accept your deal.”

\+ + + +

And that is how Jack Zimmerman found himself well into the October evening, picking out snack food for strangers.

“You’ve got ten minutes until closing,” a bored-sounding middle aged woman in a green apron called out.

“We should split up. Lardo, Ransom, Holster, you guys go get...whatever it was you needed. Bittle, you’re good at food. We can get the, uh, tree witch stuff.” He pulled a face, mildly embarrassed at how seriously he was taking something that anybody else would have written off as one of those weird things that happens in college towns.

“Aye aye, captain,” said Lardo with a salute. “To the beauty aisle!” she commanded, and Holster and Ransom echoed her battle cry as they took off.

“So, euh...snacks?” he said awkwardly to Bitty.

“Yes!” he replied, his eyes already scanning the shelves for ideas. “So first thing, we should probably make them drink some Gatorade or water or something.” He reached for the eight-pack of Gatorade on the shelf, but Jack beat him to it.

“I’ll carry stuff, you just figure out what we need?” he said, lifting the drinks up onto his shoulder.

“You can be the pack mule if you want, honey,” Bitty said absently, patting Jack’s bicep and already looking around for the next thing they would need. He froze, hand still on Jack’s arm, then suddenly yanked his hand back. “Oh my goodness, what am I even -”

“A pack mule, Bittle? Is that a crack about my ass?” Jack joked, deadpan.

Bitty’s laugh burst out of his chest like gunfire. “Lord, Jack, I can’t believe I ever thought that you didn’t have a sense of humor. I’m glad I was wrong.” His shoulders dropped as he exhaled.

Jack grew bashful at that. He could feel the tips of his ears burn. “Ah, well, I have to keep some things a secret, or my mystique will be gone.” He feigned adjusting the drinks on his shoulder with his opposite hand to have an excuse to hide his face, if only for a moment.

“Gotta keep ‘em guessing,” Bitty agreed. “Now, if I were stoned out of my gourd and up in a tree, what snacks would convince me to come down?”

\+ + + +

Jack and Bitty made it to the checkout counter with two minutes to spare, and the Lardo-Holster-Ransom coalition was only seconds behind. At the unimpressed look on the clerk’s face, Jack awkwardly gestured to them to add their findings to the probably excessive pile of junk food already on the counter. “It’ll go quicker this way,” he mumbled.

“He doesn’t even want to try to veto any of it? He does care!” said Holster with his hands clasped near his chest.

Bitty and Lardo stifled titters as Ransom joined him in gushing praise, only mildly sarcastic, for Jack’s commitment to team spirit and unity.

“It’s probably too late to convince her that I don’t know these two, eh?” Jack muttered to Bitty with a barely concealed smile. Bitty’s smile nearly cracked his face in two at that, and - oh, behind him, Lardo’s smirk suggested that she had not only noticed that moment, but that she might have Thoughts and maybe even Opinions on it. Jack stuffed the warmth threatening his cheeks back down deep in his chest, and hastily turned back to the cashier to hand over his credit card, not even bothering to ask the total.

\+ + + +

“Jackabelle!” Shitty called out as they rounded the corner and he and the large, stoner-filled tree came into view. “You survived the supply run!”

Jack laughed. “That we did, Shits.”

“Bro. Wait until you see what we got for supplies. This is gonna be EPIC,” Ransom gushed excitedly.

“Listen up, tree witches,” said Lardo, hockey manager tone in full force. “We have your toll right here--” Jack and Bitty dutifully lift the multitude of plastic bags in their hands-- “but we do not deliver. You must climb down to get them.”

With a barely perceptible nudge to Holster’s arm, Ransom and Holster set down the bags they were carrying and made their way over to the tree to help them down. Jack was a little surprised -- he had figured that everyone was just humoring him on this.

His surprise must have shown on his face, because Lardo nudged him gently with her elbow. “Got your back, bro,” she said with a smile. This caught Shitty’s attention, who quickly closed the few yards’ gap between them with a flying tackle-hug. “Got your baaaaack Jackie!” he crowed.

Jack huffed a surprised laugh as he dropped the snacks to catch Shitty. Lardo and Bitty were watching them with kind eyes and big smiles, and Jack felt his cheeks pink despite the cooling night air.

“Group hug!” shouted Holster, and he and Ransom sidestepped the last of the tree witches as her feet hit the ground to scoop up all six of them into a warm knot of friendship.

“Got your back, bro,” repeated Shitty. “Got ALL your backs.”

And Jack’s heart felt warm.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to complete my square O1, which was "self indulgent tree larping." If you would like to see my prompt card, check out my Tumblr masterpost [here](http://lattice-heart.tumblr.com/post/174387423738/lattice-hearts-biggobingobango-masterpost-o1)! 
> 
> I can’t believe that this is finally the prompt that gets me to post fanfic on the internet again for the first time since like 2003. The title is from the song “I Buy The Drugs” by Electric Six. 
> 
> Fun fact...this is based on a true experience I had in college. I was wandering the campus with a group of friends one night and we encountered a tree that had like four or five really fucking stoned people who had climbed way up in the branches. They were REALLY FUN.
> 
> Lardo ended up using the holiday lights and extension cord to spell out “stick or treat” in beautiful twinkly lights on the Haus porch. She had wanted to put “suck it” on the LAX house, but was vetoed down in a close vote. The cheap hairspray was sprayed all over their welcome mat (which, frankly, Bitty was rather surprised they even had) and copious amounts of Samwell Red craft glitter was added. (School spirit is important.) The thumbtacks were for hanging up the totally sw’awesome flyers R&H designed encouraging people to ring the doorbell at the LAX house for free guided ghost tours of the campus. The Halloween candy was consumed for prank-fuel. Bitty definitely didn’t try to drunkenly batter and deep fry fun sized candy bars and accidentally set off the smoke alarm. (That was my former roommate’s now husband, a trained chef. College was AWESOME.)


End file.
